


touch it

by thewaterymellen



Series: you could say i'm pretty. [2]
Category: Victorious (TV)
Genre: Attraction, Bisexual Jade West, Cliche, Deja Vu, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Femslash, Gay, High School, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Music, Inspired by an Ariana Grande Song, Jori - Freeform, One Shot, Out of Character, Party, Random & Short, Read at Your Own Risk, Romance, Self-Harm, Soft Jade West, Song: Let Me Love You (Ariana Grande), Useless Lesbians, i hate this, i probably plagarized half this fic without knowing it, pride month, this lowkey sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24486811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewaterymellen/pseuds/thewaterymellen
Summary: Tori and Jade... enemies? Frenemies? Friends? ...Lovers? Whatever they are, we haven't seen the whole story just yet."we both know what we want, so why don't we fall in love? baby, let's fall in love."Happy Pride Month!!
Relationships: Tori Vega/Jade West
Series: you could say i'm pretty. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751581
Comments: 9
Kudos: 67





	touch it

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Self-harm and implied suicide
> 
> I don't have a good summary, so if anyone can think of one for me, that'd be great.
> 
> This fic, low-key kinda sucks, because 1) I burnt myself out writing it and 2) it was for a school assignment. Don't worry, I changed the names before turning it in. This is my second (?) fic I wrote this year, and although it's not the best, hey I'm somewhat proud of it.

**_A/N hey, i'm alive. this fic was inspired by the line from ariana grande's touch it that goes "we both know what we want, so why don't we fall in love?"_ **

* * *

**_-say goodnight and go-_ **

"Help me or get out of the way!"

I flatten my back against the wall as my sister charges past, wincing at the shrillness of her voice that seems to pierce straight through my eardrums.

"Okay, Trina, geez. Why are you doing this anyway?" I trot down the last flight of stairs, turning pointedly to face her.

"It's gonna be the first party of the second semester, so it has to be _awesome_. And as a sophomore, I'm almost one of the upperclassmen, meaning I have to establish my popularity from the start," she declares proudly, tossing a golden curl over her shoulder, then grunting as she squeezes between the piano and the window, sending a picture frame clattering to the ground.

"My bad!"

"You know, saying "my bad" doesn't make it all better," I grump as I pick up the frame, pausing for a moment to glance at the picture of my family. Before my parents decided to practically ignore my sister and me and go on "business trips" every few weeks.

"I'm just trying to set up all the cool stuff for tonight."

"Yeah, and do you need to trash our house for this?"

"Sis, Tori, calm down," she saunters to me, a lofty glint brightening her countenance, "Mom and Dad are not here the entire weekend, and it's only Friday, so we'll get this cleaned up by the time they get back," she assures me.

"We'll?" I scoff, "I'm not helping."

"But Tori," she whines, and I plop down on my bright red couch, rolling my eyes, "You have to."

"Have to?"

"I'll give you ten bucks."

"Not enough. Fifty."

"Fine!" she pouts, standing with her arms akimbo, "Fifty."

"Okay then," I purse my lips, holding my hand out.

"Now?"

"Yes now," I scoff again, rolling my eyes so hard they practically roll into my skull, "I don't trust you."

"But I'm responsible."

"And you call forgetting the due date of three projects in a row responsible."

She stomps over to me, a scowl twitching on her lips, "In my defense-"

I stand up, slapping a hand over her mouth, "I'm going to my room."

"You're not gonna help me set up?"

"Nah, I'm good," I shake my head, eyeing the light bar that's already pulsing with colorful lights. "I don't go to Hollywood Arts. I don't think I'm invited. I'm not even old enough."

"But there'll be people your age there. Hollywood Arts does have a decent assortment of freshmen."

"I'm not interested in attending a party where a bunch of talented Hollywood high schoolers destined to be famous are going to crush the last of my self-esteem."

Before she can get another word out, I dart back up the stairs, taking two steps at once until I reach my room at the other end of the hallway. With a resigned sigh, I shut the door behind me and slump into my swivel chair, wincing at a distant crash followed by an ear-shattering shriek.

I'm so not taking responsibility for the mess.

I pull out my geometry homework, groaning at the numerous proofs that litter the textbook pages. Great.

I'm muttering theorems and postulates under my breath as I scribble them down when my sister barges in, "AAS Theorem, there should be an Angle-Side-Side Theorem because geometry is an as-"

"Tori!" Trina whisper-shouts, letting the doorknob bang into the wall like she usually does, chipping of more of the white paint that's already nonexistent.

"I thought I told you to knock!"

"Yeah, I know. But people are here!"

"And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Look, why don't you get changed and come downstairs so you don't go around looking like... that? It'll be fun!"

"Did you actually invite freshmen?"

"Well, like, two."

"Really?"

"Well, only cause her boyfriend is hot," she shrugs nonchalantly.

"Trina!" I snap.

"What?"

"I'm not going to change or go down there," I interrupt, as she opens her mouth again, "And you can tell everyone my room is off-limits, so I don't embarrass you."

She shuts her mouth with a snap, and nods, "Okay, bye!"

She turns around and sprints away.

"Close the door!" I scream, still slouched lazily in my chair.

"You close it!" she shrieks back, and I groan, dragging my feet to the door, which I proceed to deftly slam.

I'd say I hate her, but she's my sister, and I guess she keeps me from embarrassing myself because she's convinced she has talent, which is... highly debatable.

"Hey everyone!" I hear the shrill shout of Trina Vega, and I sigh, "THE LAST ROOM UPSTAIRS DOWN THE HALLWAY IS OFF-LIMITS, OKAY?"

And then the music turns on.

I recognize the song, and hum along to the first verse, probably more in key than my sister ever will be.

I really don't understand how she got into an Arts high school in the first place, but I'm not going to waste time pondering that, having wasted enough of my life.

After a couple of hours, I'm already hungry, which means I have to go down to fetch food. Great. That was something I overthought when locking myself in my room.

I open my door quietly, tiptoeing downstairs although I'm sure the music easily drowns out my footsteps.

Before long I'm at the refrigerator, and I pull it open, wincing at the light that glares in the dark room. I grab a wrapped sandwich I forgot to bring to school this morning, and I shut the fridge quickly.

I scan the party, looking for a way to sneak back to my room without being spotted. I slip behind the island counter and towards the back corner, where the staircase wraps around the wall. I'm rushing quickly to the first step only to slam into someone, who promptly stumbles backward and collapses.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry," I gasp, reaching out a hand, which the girl ignores. The room is dim but I can tell her skin is almost porcelain compared to my half-Latina bronze, and in the weak lights that filter from the light bar, it only glows. Her hazel hair falls in front of her eyes, obscuring the dazzling color that meets my gaze a second later.

Her eyes are almost a jay blue in the distorted lighting, and for a second, I just stand there, stunned into silence.

But she tears her gaze away from mine, and I shake my head. I reach down and place a hand on her shoulder, which she flings off with a hiss.

"Never touch me," she growls, slapping my hand away, and a inhale sharply when something shoots up my arm. I shrug it off as the fact that she hit me and retract my hand in resignation.

"Look, I'm sorr-"

She staggers to her feet and almost collapses, and when she looks at me again, I can see her face is a whitish pale, almost green, and her eyes swim with tears that drip slowly down her cheeks with an agony that practically bleeds from her eyes.

Lacking proper lighting, the tears, at first glance, resemble scarlet blood, but at a closer glance, it's excess mascara, which has caked on her cheeks.

Her knees buckle as she pushes herself up too fast, and I hook an arm under hers so she doesn't hit her head.

"Don't touch me," she slurs slightly, shoving me away weakly, and I notice a pink streak that highlights her brunette hair. Is she drunk? Isn't she a little young for that?

"Look-"

"Do you know where the bathroom is?" she grunts, and by the way she's swallowing rapidly with her eyes shut tight, I can tell she's going to vomit.

"Follow me," I lead her upstairs slowly, respecting the fact she doesn't want me to touch her. She takes one step at a time, slowly, gripping the railing so tight her knuckles are white.

"You okay?" I ask tentatively, but she doesn't answer, only dragging herself up a few more steps in a silence that rivals the party raging below.

When we finally traverse the stairs, I lead her as quickly as she can walk to my room, showing her to my personal bathroom. It's probably better than whatever bathroom they've probably already contaminated downstairs.

What? I'm not letting her vomit in a bathroom where they've made soup in the toilet bowl!

She stumbles in, collapsing in front of the toilet and vomits, expelling whatever she's consumed in the past hour or so. I rush in, flicking the lights on, grabbing her hair that almost falls to her waist, and pull it into a loose ponytail behind her head. I grip her hair lightly, but can't help but notice that despite the partying, it's still like silk, almost slipping through my fingers, and I have to refrain from stroking it.

She dry heaves over the bowl, clutching it to her chest like it's her lifeline, gagging as more tears streak from her eyes, perspiration beading along her forehead and neck.

"Can you... leave?" she chokes out, and I nod respectfully, handing her some of my make-up remover wipes and a wet towel, and quickly tucking her long hair into a ponytail with a scrunchie I have on my wrist.

She doesn't thank me, she doesn't utter another word, by I see the gratitude in her ocean eyes.

I back out almost awkwardly and shut the door, realizing I left my sandwich downstairs while helping this mystery girl up. And it hits me I don't know her name or anything about her.

She looks about my age, but her face is more mature, her eyes slightly smoky with makeup. She's dressed in a simple unbuttoned flannel and jeans, not exactly party attire, but then, by the way she treated me downstairs, I take it that she isn't typically a very cooperative or compassionate person.

I sit on my bed, frowning at this weird high that bubbles inside of me. I've never felt anything like it before, but I brush it off as having just seen a high school party.

I frown slightly. If she really is my age, meaning she's in ninth grade, does that mean she's one of the freshmen Trina invited? Because her boyfriend was attractive?

Something about that statement causes my blood to boil, and I fidget, crossing my ankles and twiddling my thumbs.

I stand to shut the door, effectively muffling the sounds of music and yells that reach me from the lower floor of my house, only to realize this girl has been in my bathroom for a while.

I step lightly over to the wooden door and push my ear against it, stiffening when I hear her almost panting. The breaths on the other side of the door are quick and ragged, so shallow I can't help opening the door to peek inside.

What I see has my heart jumping out of my throat, and she turns, freezing like a deer caught in the headlights.

I gape at her and she drops what she's holding, and I see a blade clatter to the floor. A razor blade?

Three lines of scarlet have been traced across each wrist, and another few on each thigh, and her breaths come quick and broken, her chest heaving and convulsing as she fights for air through the tears she's drowning in.

I step forward, dropping beside her to take the razor that's probably my sister's.

"You-" my voice dies in my throat, and I shake my head, blinking quickly when a sudden wave of emotions threatens to burst out.

I throw the razor in the trash can, grabbing the girl's hand.

She doesn't stop me, still dragging in the air which she seemingly lacks.

I push myself to my feet to open my mirror cabinet, pulling out bandages.

"Why?" I meet her pained gaze, feeling an ice pick pierce my heart for this girl I don't even know.

She just shakes her head, and I wet a paper towel with water dabbing it lightly on the cuts that she's carved into her wrists.

She winces, and my heart breaks for her, "Just, I don't know, talk to me," she manages, her voice weak but pleading, feeling something crumble inside of me at the sound of her agony.

"Hey," I breathe, sitting down on the edge of my tub, laying her arm across my lap, "Whatever just happened down there, it's all going to be fine sooner than you know. I'm aware I don't know you, but I see you're someone who holds grudges pretty easily. Just... stop." I murmur as dab the towel across her wrist.

"I can't," she admits, her breathing slowing down slightly.

"It's easier that way," I tell her, drying her arm so I can apply the bandages, "Don't keep it all inside. You're going to blow up sooner or later, and it won't be pretty. Trust me."

She eyes me, her eyes flickering from head to toe, "How would you know?"

I sigh, already feeling my chest tighten as I recall the story, "One of my friends k-killed herself. Well, it wasn't by c-cutting or anything."

Her pale eyes widen, and her eyes flicker down to her bleeding arms. 

"How?" she asks, her voice softer than I've ever heard in the last few minutes, "I mean- I'm sorry, I didn't mean- was that insensiti- Oh my God-"

I cut her off with a pained smile, patting her shoulder softly, "No, it's fine. I'm going to have to talk about it eventually, right?"

She just bites her lip.

But damn, there's that incessant pounding in my chest again, and I feel like I'm going to have a heart attack.

"She biked to school every morning, and she always talked about not being enough, and just how she would leave the world someday and would give us cryptic messages, and dates, and always tell us she loved us. And one day... she was feeling reckless, I guess. She crossed the street without looking, swerved to the other side of the road. I-I wasn't there, but I have another friend who was. Basically, she got hit. Died on impact. Apparently she didn't feel any pain." I swallow the lump in my throat, "Which was better than the last three years of her life," I add bitterly.

Her cool eyes blink and I can see pity burning in them, although she doesn't say anything.

"That was a year ago," I swallowed, "It hurts me to see anyone harming themselves because it's the easiest way to get rid of the pain. But you don't get rid of it. You're only stifling it for a while before the need to physically hurt yourself to lessen the mental hurt comes back, and it's addicting."

She just looks at me, shaking her head, "You don't even know me. Why are you telling me this?"

I sigh, "I'm only trying to help. And... maybe it's the fact that I don't know you that makes it easier to say it. Wanna talk about it?"

She shakes her head, shutting her eyes.

I give her arm back to her, turning my attention to her legs, which I now realize are pant-less; her jeans lay crumpled on the floor. Something bubbles in my chest, and I blush furiously at the thoughts that even dare make it into my mind. 

I graze my palm lightly on her bare thigh, and she shivers, her eyes meeting mine for a split second, brimming with something unreadable.

Despite my efforts to be gentle, she still hisses every time I make contact with a wound, closing her eyes and clenching her fists.

"I don't know why I thought it'd be a good idea to cut in your bathroom with you just outside," she mumbled shaking your head, her hands trembling as she gesticulated. "I-I just saw the blade and then any resolve I had left just bro-" Her voice catches in her throat and she swallows hard.

"Hey, hey, hey," I whisper softly, swiping my thumb across her cheekbone to catch the singular tear that falls. She flinches at the sudden touch, and I yank my hand back, muttering a quick apology.

"No, uh, it's I've been raised to be wary of people, and just that anyone can betray me at any second, and I just can't deal with people, because I've been raised to— well not be scared of them, I guess, but to despise them, and never let anyone in, and _God_ , I don't know why I'm telling you this," she rambles, her hands slamming on the tiled floor as a sob bursts out of her chest.

"Feels good to talk, doesn't it?" I run my hands under the cool water for a short moment, then carefully my supplies back into the mirror.

"Thank you," she mumbles, and I prop my elbows onto my knees, chin in the palm of my hands.

I can tell she's not someone to is thankful or remorseful easily, but I give her a small smile, and I feel something stir inside of me when she simpers hesitantly back.

I hold out my hand, and this time she takes it, pulling herself to her feet, "Really, thanks."

"You don't seem like someone who'd thank people," I muse.

She laughs, and something drops in me at the sound of her husky chortle, but I shake it off, as we sit down onto my bed.

_What is wrong with me?_

"Can you turn off the light?" she requests, almost timidly as I hand her back her jeans, "It's giving me a headache."

I nod, standing up to hit both the bathroom and room light switches so we're bathed in darkness, the only source of light the moon outside the window.

I wish I could see the stars. The light pollution in Hollywood makes it impossible, though. But if I'm lucky, I get catch a glimpse of Orion's belt or the gentle glow of Jupiter or Venus in the distance once in a while.

She runs her hands over her now clothed legs, tracing the ridges and wrinkles from the bandages underneath, chuckling slightly as she glances at her identically wrapped arms, "I-I kinda have OCD when it comes to cutting," she purses her lips, holding out her arms for good measure.

"That's normal," I shrug, curling and uncurling my toes, because suddenly I'm hyperaware of the little distance between us despite the fact we're not touching, and that I've just met her— and _God,_ something is wrong with me because something flutters— no, more than freaking flutters, something flaps in my stomach, and I fight the urge to grab it and wonder if I have food poisoning. 

"Speaking of the fact I don't know you," I reach out my right hand, palm sideways, "I'm... Victoria," I tell her my full name, something I tell no one, but I tell her nevertheless because my mouth is moving without my consent, "but you can call me Vic."

For an unknown reason, something inside me doesn't want me to tell her what everyone else knows me as.

She takes my hand with her unbandaged one, grasping my hand firmly to shake it like we're meeting formally, "Call me... Lyn."

"As in... Carolyn?"

"Kinda."

I tip my head, just looking into her moonlit eyes like they're the only thing left in the world.

And in this instant, although the stars are overwhelmed by the light that radiates from the city, I can see an entire galaxy in those eyes. They're more than just blue, and I can tell now, they are vaguely green too. There is pain in them, thrashing and swirling and writhing and storming like the ocean this cerulean color so deeply resembles. And they reflect the sky full of stars, the whole universe that I cannot see.

She looks down, and I avert my gaze, suddenly aware my cheeks are burning.

She exhales sharply, finally looking back at me, "My boyfriend broke up with me. And my dad... he's never approved of him. And I don't want to admit he's right, because he's never been a father to me. He just... orders me around like I'm a slave. And..." her bottom lip quivers, and I bite my own to refrain from the word vomit that might just explode from me, "he hits me."

And if possible, I only feel my spirit fragment more, "Oh."

"I know the age of fourteen is probably too young to have a boyfriend, and too young to date or whatever. But I'm kind of a rebel, and I don't even know why," she looks at her lap, where her palms are facing up, almost like they are ready to catch the pain that swims in her eyes, catching the points of light, the stars, that are yet to fall from them.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, closing my eyes as I feel my entire body being seized by a chill that shoots up my spine.

She sighs, "Don't be. I liked him too much. But maybe... maybe I just needed someone, I guess. Like my entire life, no one's been It's why I don't trust people."

"Well, you're telling me," I point out, and she gives me a smile that reaches her eyes. Not only her eyes but my heart. Although I can only see her through the gentle moonlight that filters through the frigid glass, I can still see that she's breathtakingly beautiful.

I guess that's why she doesn't trust. She's probably easily taken advantage of. Or at least she was.

"Yeah, I guess."

The silence that sits between us is punctuated by the soft rumble of my stomach, and I flush, "Er... sorry... I'm just kinda hungry."

"Sorry I made you drop your sandwich," she pursed her lips, her teeth glinting as her lips parted in another smile.

"You said sorry," I notice.

"And?"

"You don't seem like a person who apologizes," I observe.

"I'm not," she says, almost matter-of-factly, "So don't take it for granted."

"I won't," I grin, feeling comfortable in this dimness.

"Good," I don't realize what's happening until I feel her hair tickle my face.

My heart stutters when I feel her head drop lightly on my shoulder.

"Hope you don't mind," she mumbles, and I smile to myself, letting my own head rest on hers slightly.

"I don't," I promise, her voice, which is slightly deeper than mine seeming to resonate into my bones.

"Good," she husks, "'Cause I'm not moving." I shiver at that, and I think she notices. "Cold?"

I shake my head, "Nah."

It's silent for a good few minutes and _dammit,_ the silence is almost deafening because I long to hear the sound of her voice again, which is almost sultry when she talks softly.

"Thank you," she finally says again, "Really," and I hear her swallow, "That was one of the worst panic attacks I've ever had, although it's not the first time I've resorted to... y'know, self-harm."

"Don't worry about it," I reply, almost gasping out loud when her arm snakes around my waist.

She only wraps another arm around me, almost shaking as she pulls herself close.

We stay like this for a while, and although I feel that only minutes have passed, by the clock glaring on my nightstand, I know it's been hours. The silence that settles is only shattered by the occasional yowl from downstairs, and maybe a little hiccup from Lyn as her lungs finally relax. A periodic word or two slips from our tongues, and another few in reply, but the silence breaks through it until one of us has more to say.

"I have to go," she says, almost remorsefully, and I nod, lifting my head from hers, "He's probably waiting for me."

"He?"

"Boyfriend," she whispered, "Or ex. Whatever. He's walking me home."

"Thought you guys broke up?" 

_Am I jealous?_

"Well, we've decided to be friends," she says dubiously, "For now."

"Oh."

She stands up, pulling out her phone, and I see that it's already a quarter after eleven.

"You don't go to Hollywood Arts, do you?"

I shake my head, "Sherwood High."

"Ah."

Without warning she embraces me, wrapping her arms around my torso. She's slightly taller than me, which makes it awkward for me to hug her back, but I do anyway, slipping my hands over her shoulders.

She clears her throat, stepping away, "I, er, I-I don't do that often. Uhm, not often being... never."

"No worries," I manage, her ocean eyes still breathtaking even after having seen them multiple times.

"What about your scrunchie?" she wonders, reaching behind her to pull it out of her hair, which falls over her shoulder in a silky waterfall.

"Keep it," I chew my bottom lip, gauging her reaction, inwardly delighted when she slips it over her wrist.

"Don't miss me," her eyes flicker to my face, and she leans forward to kiss me lightly on the cheek, but I turn my head slightly so the corner of her mouth grazes mine.

_What did I just do?_

She pulls back and studies me for a moment, her gaze lingering on my eyes for a second before she turns away with a wink I almost miss.

She opens the door, her hand hesitant on the doorknob, but she pulls it open as if it's the thing she's sure about most in this world, and she steps through the threshold.

She doesn't look back as the door swings shut behind her.

It's like she was never here.

* * *

**_-you think you know me, but there's more to see, my love-_ **

"I love you," I say, fighting the urge to bite my lip as soon as the words slip out. The words are directed at 'Nancy,' Jade's character in the play our acting teacher forced us to do.

It's been over a year attending Hollywood Arts, and I still don't understand the intentions of my psychotic acting teacher.

"I love you," Jade replies, but despite the way she says it, full of emotion, I know she's just too good of an actor. One second, she'll be enraged, and she can blink, and her eyes are filled with misery. Also, it was directed to my character.

But still, I can't help feeling something, as if a small part of her meant it, but I highly doubt it. Even when she leans in to touch her lips lightly to mine, I know it's all an act, just a play written to entertain and amuse the audience.

I still can't help but feel _something_ at this.

I'm in a daze when the audience erupts to their feet, hands clapping together. My 'wife,' grabs my hand, and we bow together, but I don't miss the strange look she shoots me.

I exhale in relief when she drags me behind the curtains, so we're hidden from the audience.

"Good job today, Vega," she tells me, and I turn to her in surprise, an eyebrow cocked.

"What? I can't give compliments?"

"You usually don't," I scoff.

"True," she relents, and I want to say something, but I don't.

"Cat got your tongue?" she frowns when I don't respond.

"Cat's over there," I joke, pointing to my friend of the name Catarina, "Of course she doesn't have my tongue."

"You know what I mean," she rolls her eyes, but I can tell she's amused, "Hey!"

"What?"

"Your untalented sister is hosting a party tonight, apparently."

"Yup," I pop the _p,_ pursing my lips. "It's gonna be a disaster."

"Mhm."

I remember the last one with a shake of my head, the hours it took for Trina and me to clean up. I was still a freshman then and hadn't attended yet Hollywood Arts, but when I was offered the opportunity to attend this prestigious school, I took it. 

But maybe that wasn't the only reason...

Air suddenly rushes into my lungs as I gasp, my throat closing as I do so, so I cough heavily, turning away as I hack into the crook of my arm.

"Vega? You okay?" she frowns again as my eyes water.

"Yeah," I gasp out, "Excuse me," I choke as I dash into my changing room, slamming the door behind me.

I put my elbows onto the table, slowly breathing as my mind whirls faster than a hurricane. This isn't possible. But what if...

It can't have taken me this long to realize. No.

My heart is pounding at the speed of a freight train, and I'm afraid I'm going to have a heart attack.

_After all, I did sort of lie about my name too. Or at least my nickname._

I'd given her my full name, which, to this day, only my family knows. And... I'd told "Lyn."

Oh my god. How did I not put this together earlier? Two years later... and now I finally realize that girl I'd met that night was... Jade?

And did she not realize?

Now how am I supposed to tell her? She would kill me if she knew I'd seen her in the midst of a breakdown.

I quickly change back into my normal clothes, every attempt to calm my racing heart futile. _This is absolutely insane._

She'd occupied my mind for the next year after that night, and I'd dated three different boys in an attempt to give me an emotion I'd felt I was lacking since... that night. 

Sure, I'd liked them, but not a single one had been able to fill the hole in my heart that I couldn't decipher.

I was still a freshman, and awfully stupid to have not realized what was going on.

I grab my belongings and slip out the stage door, hurrying to Trina's car, before anyone catches sight of me.

I pull out my phone, tapping out an urgent message to my sister.

Just a minute later, she's here, frowning at me, "Why so fast?"

"I just wanna go home," I close my eyes, "Please."

"Oh. Okay."

She doesn't say another word on the way home and for once, I'm grateful for her off-key singing. It takes my mind off what is going on in my head, although not completely.

"Thanks, Treen," I sigh, almost having fallen asleep in the eight minutes it'd taken to get home.

"No prob, sis. Just... get your driver's license soon like a normal 17-year-old teenage girl," she blinks at me, and I nod, too weary to even lash back at the subtle jeer.

I stumble out of the car, throwing my door— which is, as usual, unlocked— open. I press my fingers to my temples, shaking my head as memories of that night flooded back to me.

Crashing into 'Lyn,' just in front of the stairs, helping her to a quiet bathroom where she had a panic attack... among other things.

And it was Jade all along.

In my defense, she had changed drastically. Her smoky makeup had disappeared, and her hair and changed from a light hazel to a jet-black, later lightened to a more natural brown.

But the streaks had stayed.

And although she had gained weight, her piercing eyes never changed, nor had to breathtaking face that never failed to make my breath catch in my throat.

But... why hadn't she recognized me?

Well... I did get rid of those god-forsaken bangs. And (not to brag) my cheekbones _are_ more prominent.

"Tori!" my sister's voice, shrill as usual startles me out of my reverie, and I jump.

"What?"

"Help me set up for the party tonight," she whines, breathlessly dragging out a few plastic tables.

"And do we have permission for this?" I sigh, grudgingly acknowledging my parents aren't home.

"Mom and Dad aren't home for the weekend," Trina shrugs nonchalantly as she voices my exact thoughts.

"Again?" I groan.

"They're never home anyway. And this time, you actually _do_ go to Hollywood Arts, so you're not getting out of helping me set up."

 _This time_ implied that there was a _last time._

 _God, Tori, just_ stop.

"No," I grumble, heaving a huge sigh that could've knocked a tree over.

"What's wrong with you?" My sister eyes me suspiciously, her tone blunt. She's never really had a filter.

"Nothing," I snap back, maybe too defensively.

"Then help me!"

I exhale slowly, nostrils flaring in the slightest as I shake my head, "Trina. I'm not attending this party. You can't make me."

"Geez, Tori. Are you sick or something?"

"Possibly," I mumble under my breath, making my way up to my room.

I lay on my bed, screwing my eyes shut so tightly it hurts.

Out of all the people in the world, why did it have to be her? The girl hated me; she'd despised me since the moment she'd seen me at Hollywood Arts. 

I had tried not to take it personally, as she _is_ the clichéd mean girl with a dash of goth and a hint of masochistic sadist that typically appeared in romance novels and fanfictions.

But then, life isn't just a romance tale.

Disoriented and almost scared, I curl up on my side, trying to block out the fading light still streaming from the tip of the sun, which still peeked out from behind the hills.

Sleep washes the troubled pictures from my mind, only now they are real. Or at least the illusion of reality. That's the thing about dreams. They convert mere fantasies into a false reality that is always too far to grasp, too far to reach with the tips of my fingers and pull close, no matter how much I want to.

I'm shaken from my alluring dreams when Trina barges in. Without knocking.

"People are here," she barks, and a get I rush of déjà vu at the similarity of the situation.

"Okay, okay," I mutter tiredly, sitting up to rub my eyes.

"Get changed."

"I'm fine in a hoodie and jeans," I croak, clearing my throat to dislodge the dryness that has settled there.

"Fine. Embarrass yourself," she spins around and saunters out with an air of confidence (arrogance?) I don't think I could ever muster.

I scoff, shoving my fists into my jacket pockets with an eye roll that would've matched Jade's, who had rapidly... declined —for a lack of a better word, after sophomore year. She started wearing darker clothes, threatened to physically harm people (although she never carried out with her threats), was a lot more ignorant and rough with her friends. I can tell she's hurting. But I've never figured out the reason why.

I shake my head with yet another sigh, strolling out of my room like I have all the time in the world. I look over my living room from the balcony, arms propped up on the balustrade that lines the edge of the upper floor.

The place is already filled with people, a light bar throbbing with colorful lights that distort the true colors of everything. But even so, it feels so dull, so pale, weak in comparison to the colors that swirl in my dreams.

I shake my head roughly, hoping to clear the fog of sleep from my brain, rubbing my eyes until they are almost numb.

Ah. And there she is. Jade West. In a denim jacket in the flood of people, her hair darker than a nightmare, skin the color of porcelain. She's dressed in a simple black dress, hiked up halfway to her knees, her milky legs long and graceful as she pushes her way through the crowd.

And those eyes. Still as vibrant and clear as ever, only marred with the hurricane of storm clouds that swirls inside them.

And as if she has a sixth sense— or maybe she can just feel the heat of my stare— she turns in the multitude, her gaze meeting mine.

I beckon to her, but she turns away so she is invisible among the crowd of partygoers. I don't know if she saw me in the first place.

"Chica, whatcha doin' up here?" I turn to see my friend, Andre, ambling up the stairs.

"I need to talk to you," I hiss, dragging him into my room.

"What?" he yelps as I yank him, shutting the door behind him.

"Andre," I take a deep breath, hoping my eyes are as desperate as I feel, "Tell me about Jade."

"Wha?"

"Like, how was she before I got here, like, freshman year, before?"

"You're trippin' me here," he clasps his hands together with a frown, "But okay."

"Thank you!" I blurt, and he cocks an eyebrow, clearly amused by the hint of a smirk that tugs at his lips.

"I mean, she was less violent I guess. Didn't threaten to hurt everyone so much. She was... more depressed, you could say, but now, she just does a better job of hiding everything from us. Dressed like she did sophomore year. You know that. Erm... "

"Andre," I gulp whatever lump is constricting my throat.

"Yeah?"

"What's her full name?"

I can feel my heart pulsing in my throat, threatening to leap out of my chest and splatter onto my wooden floor.

He sighs, "Never told her I told you this, 'cause she'll kill me, but..."

"Andre," I swallow audibly, my voice terse, "Is it Jadelyn, as in J-A-D-E-L-Y-N?"

He dips his head, narrowing his eyes as he studies me.

"Can you please get her?" I breathe, aware my hands are shaking.

"Uh... sure."

When he walks out, I stumble mindlessly into my bathroom, splashing cold water on my face.

_God, what am I getting myself into?_

I turn off the water, slumping down so I'm sitting on the edge of my bathtub, my heart thumping so fast, I couldn't be surprised if I had a sudden cardiac arrest.

I inhale shakily, holding it for a few seconds, before releasing it, but even trying, I can't stop the wave of panic that's already beginning to set in.

_She probably doesn't remember you. She hates you. You're barely friends._

I sit up, trying to let oxygen reach every corner of my lungs as my chest is struck with a stabbing pain, but all my attempts are in vain; it feels like I've just run for thirty minutes straight, but it's worse because I'm seized with this unreasonable fear that Jade will not return this unrequited crush.

At this point, I'm white-knuckling the tub I'm sitting on, my fingers trembling as my palms slip on the cold porcelain.

I slide to the floor, my fists clenched so tight they're shaking. Andre hasn't come back yet, and I tuck my knees into my chest, rocking back and forth in yet another vain attempt to calm down.

"Tori?"

I look up, shivering at the cold tile against my back, "W-what do y-you want?" I stutter uncertainly, feeling my heart stop at the girl that stands in front of me.

"You," she walks in and offers a hand, which I promptly grab. The déjà vu is almost enough to bring me to my knees, only this time, our roles are reversed.

"Tori, what's going on?" she brushes a strand of loose hair out of my eyes as she sits me down on my bed.

I shrug my shoulders, eyes shut at an overwhelming wave that's straining against my body, "You tell me, Jadelyn," I choke out, every breath ragged as an obstruction had lodged itself in my bronchi.

She doesn't look at me, but I can see something flash in her eyes. "Calm down," she whispers, in a tone I've never heard from her, nodding gratefully at Andre, who closes the door and walks away. "You're having a panic attack."

"Don't remind me," I purse my lips, inhaling abruptly at a stabbing pain that radiates through my chest. "I'm gonna throw up."

Jade stands hesitantly, "You're..."

I shake my head, mustering a soft chuckle at her cluelessness, "Ah, nevermind."

She sits beside me, and I hear her take a deep breath, "Look, I'm not good with feelings, yours or mine."

My next words are no more than a mere breath, "Me neither."

"You okay?" She turns to me, and I look up from where I've buried my head in my hands.

"Could be better," I answer indifferently, "But can you... please talk to me?" I blurt, hoping she still has some recollection of that night.

Nothing on her face changes, and I grit my teeth, pushing it away as the fact she's just an excellent actor.

"Okay," she swallows, "B-but I don't know what to say."

I shrug, "Just say anything."

I inhale for three seconds, hold my breath for three seconds, and exhale for three seconds.

She glances at me, and I'm startled by the light in her teal eyes despite the fact the lights have been turned off, "Does singing count?"

Inhale for four, hold for four, release for four.

I bite my lower lip, completely aware that her bottom lip is, too, held captive between her teeth. So I nod mutely, and she just gives me one of her rare smiles.

Breathe in for five, sustain for five, breathe out for five.

_How do I make the phone ring?_ _  
_ _Why do I even care?_ _  
_ _How are you all around me when you're not really there?_

It's a song I recognize as "Touch It" by Ariana Grande, and I allow my body to be swayed, her breathy alto executing the song perfectly despite the fact it strained on her higher registers. It's agile and charismatic, and I can only feel myself falling deeper into those eyes I'm already drowning in.

"Jade?"

In six, hold six, out six.

"Mhm?"

"Can I ask you a question? Please don't kill me."

She snorts, "Of course."

I exhale shakily, "D-do you... have feelings for me?" I open my eyes to find her staring back, her irises still as startling as I remembered them to be.

"Look, Tori. I-I don't know what you mean by that."

"Jadelyn," I swallow, hoping in some way, she'll remember everything that's spinning in my mind faster than the hurricane that's beginning to die down in her eyes.

She only averts her gaze, glancing around the room like she's trying to look at anything else but me.

"The kiss? I-I know I felt something, a-and I need to know if you did too," I swallow the desperation that's beginning to edge my voice.

"Tor," she breaks off, her gaze flashing to my face, "that was a stage kiss."

"B-but," I trail off, "I've seen the way you look at me. I-I've-," my next sigh is resigned as I throw her my last resort, "You don't remember?"

She turns away, and for a second, I'm afraid she's going to leave. But she only paces a small circle, before turning back to me.

"Tori, is your full name Victoria?"

"Yeah, why?" It comes out as a barely audible whisper, and when she doesn't respond, I go on, "Look, I'm sorry I didn't say anything because no one knows that except my family and, like, the school, and I told... you back in freshman year, so I didn't dare tell anyone," my voice breaks, and I draw in a ragged breath before continuing, "because, after you or Lyn or whoever left that night, I spent years trying to fill that space that you left because I didn't know it, but I think I fell in lo-"

I stop.

Not because I want to, but because she shuts me up. In the way, I expect the least.

In the midst of my rambling, I don't notice that her expression has changed to one of realization when she is struck by the epiphany. I don't notice that she has scooted closer to me, I don't notice her initial hesitation, I don't notice the fact when her eyes wander to my rapidly moving lips.

I don't notice she's kissing me until the words halt at my lips, and she's pulled away, leaving nothing but the memory of her mouth tingling on mine, the taste of coffee and the scent of vanilla, something I've memorized as _Jadelyn West_ since the beginning.

I glance at Jadelyn, who is now looking at me as if I'm the only thing left in the world.

"I missed you," she confesses.

"I thought you told me not to," my lips form the words against my will because they're too busy sending shots of euphoria into my bloodstream.

"Well, you should've long ago figured I'm quite the hypocrite when it comes to saying things that actually mean something," she tips her head, her eyes warmer than I've ever seen them, "I typically don't mean anything I say, especially if it's 'I'm sorry." She purses her lips, "But I just wanted to say sorry."

"For what?"

"For I dunno, being so mean to you, and even though I had a faint inkling it was you all along. In my defense, this room and house was dark the first time I was here, so I couldn't really tell, but even then when I came here, I had this weird sense of familiarity, like I'd been here before.

"And when I saw you again, it felt like I'd known you my whole life, although I had no idea who you were. I just didn't want to confirm it, or admit it to myself, because it would mean you saw me."

"Huh?" I frown slightly.

"Like, you saw me having a breakdown and crying, and weak-"

"Jade," I interrupt, "sometimes having a breakdown doesn't mean you're weak. It means you've been strong for too long."

Her mouth twisted into a wry smile, "Johnny Depp?"

My mouth reflects her smile and I chuckle, "Y...eah."

"Just... sorry," it comes out small, and I know it's hard for her to say.

"You mean it?"

"Yes," she answers solemnly, and when I look at her, despite the hardness of her eyes, there's something in there gauging my reaction, desperately seeking my approval.

"Then... apology accepted."

I beam at her, and she just chuckles.

"Can we... you know," she chews at her lip, for once looking unsure of herself.

"Can we what?"

"Start over," she blurts, "Can we start over? Pretend like none of anything ever happened? Like, pretend that me being mean to you never happened, 'cause _dammit,_ the only reason I ever was mean to you was not 'cause I hated you, but because I hated the way I was... more human around you. You make me... feel things," she rambles on, her hands moving wildly in gesticulations I find amusing yet comforting because even if she didn't realize she was doing it, they were wild and big, and something she never held back from.

"You make me feel like I've known you my whole life, although it's only been years. And I feel like I smile more around you, and God, I've always hated being happy, because it was never enough, you know?

"Happiness only ever lasts for that short little fleeting moment, and then after that, it's gone, and then you want what you don't have, and it just leads to pain... and not the good kind. And that's why Beck says I hate being happy, but I really don't because what I actually hate is the consequence that comes from it, and the fact that once it's over, it leaves you hanging."

I let her talk, feeling the corner of my mouth quirk up as her hands wave around passionately.

"But you, Vic, Victoria, Tori, Vega, whatever I'm supposed to call you, you make me happy to be happy. Like, I know it doesn't make sense, but when I'm around you I can't but feel happy because even if I can't have you, your smile is so goddammed contagious-"

"But you _can_ have me," I murmur, and she stops, looking at me with an almost dazed expression.

A soft giggle leaves her mouth at that, and I smile in response.

"You make me happy to be alive, you make me want to be alive, Vic- Tori."

I grimace, "Yeah, don't call me Victoria. Hate that."

"Noted."

"So what about starting over?" I prompt, and she nods.

"I'm happy with you, Tori. Even when I thought I couldn't have you, because you're this perfect little person, and I've always been mean to you, and I've always just almost killed you, by sending you those bush daisies when I found out you were allergic to them, by pushing you off that second story balcony because you were too afraid to jump, by misplacing your blood by taki-"

"Woah, woah, woah. _You_ were the one who stole my blood?"

"Yeah, but that's not the poi-"

"I could've died!" I shriek, "And Robbie's life was at risk!"

She just watches me, her expression equal parts apologetic and fond, "I'm sorry for all of that, Tori. So putting all things behind us, all those arguments and bickering— well, we wouldn't be Jade and Tori if we didn't argue— but I want to forget all the times I was terrible to you, because I feel so guilty about everything."

"What about that," I muse, "Jade West has feelings."

"Oh my God, you're such an idiot," she groans, burying her face in her hands, and that's when I realize she's blushing. Really blushing, her cheeks flushed red to the tip of her ears, her tongue flicking out to wet her lip, which she bites shortly after like she does when she's flustered.

"I'm _your_ idiot," I grunt, and I can't help a little giggle at the smile she gives me.

"So what do you say?" She just looks at me, greenish eyes wide and more innocent than I've ever seen them, everything in them genuine.

I grin, holding out my right hand, palm perpendicular to the floor, "I'm Victoria Dawn Vega. But you can call me Tori."

"Wow, your middle name is Dawn?"

"That's irrelevant!" I bounce, hand still held midair.

"It's cringy and overused."

"Well, there's the Jade West I fell in love with," I say teasingly.

"Wait, you're in love with me?"

My face pales for a second, then flushes bright red, "I-I didn't- I didn't mean to say that!"

"Oh, chill, Vega."

"W-what?" I stammer, mortified.

"Hey, I'm in love with you too."

"W-what?" I repeat, still stuttering.

"You heard me."

My heart is pounding at her statement, and suddenly I remember her mouth on mine, the taste of her lips, the almost physical force that made me want to get closer to her, and I really want to kiss her.

So I do, my hand still held up in the air like an idiot while my lips touch hers, fire rushing throughout my body at the little contact.

"You're such a dork," she groans, but she's smiling.

"I'm _your-_ "

"Don't say it," she warns.

"Why?"

"It's so freaking cringy-"

"No, it's not!"

"-and it makes you too adorable to stand."

My lips fly together at that, and I blush crazily once again, wondering if it's healthy to be blushing so many times within a few minutes.

We just look at each other, identical grins plastered on our faces for a moment, before I realize my arm is aching.

"My arm is tired," I complain, "C'mon."

"And you expect me to go full cringe and re-introduce myself while shaking your hand?"

"Well, yeah!"

"But that's literally straight out of some stupid romance novel! It doesn't happen in real life."

"Then make it real, Jade."

"But it's so-"

"Don't say cringy. I know you're just as much of a hopeless romantic as I am."

"Ugh, fine."

She grabs my hand, her thumb slipping in between my thumb and her forefinger, jerking my hand twice.

I'm about to ask her to reintroduce herself, but she yanks me by the arm so I'm crushed against her, and she kisses me, hard.

I let out an embarrassing moan as her hand flies up to cup my cheek, a flicker of tongue brushing my lips.

When she pulls away, we're both breathless and panting, foreheads pressed together, fire against ice, black against white, silver against gold.

The moon is with the sun, but then, eclipses do happen once in a while.

She looks into my eyes, lips curving into an easy smile, her chest still heaving as her pale eyes sparkle.

"I'm Jadelyn August West. Nice to meet you."

I don't even have time to make fun of her middle name before she pulls me back in for another kiss.

Not that I'm complaining.

* * *

_"we both know what we want, so why don't we fall in love? baby, let's fall in love."  
_ _~ariana grande, touch it_

_[ **-thewaterymellen-** ](https://www.wattpad.com/user/-thewaterymellen-)  
_

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the lyrics "We both know what we want, so why don't we fall in love? Baby, let's fall in love." from Ariana Grande's Touch It, so that's the title. 
> 
> The bolded and italicized lines that that title each part are from Ariana Grande's goodnight n go and You Don't Know Me.
> 
> It's 1 AM and I really don't want to edit this again after accidentally adding 3000 words within the last hour, so here it is.
> 
> I apologize that it's really out of character, but I really don't know how to write that well, and I'm still trying to figure it out. Constructive criticism is welcomed.


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